The Pieta and the Dome of San Lorenzo

The Pieta and the Dome
of San Lorenzo
 
I worship all these things
            or not these things
I worship your ideas
            or not your ideas
I worship the light
            that you first saw
            long after it appeared
I gaze with longing
            on your fine proportions
            that are not yours alone
the texture of your vision
            fascinates my fugitive soul
 
I have seen the silver halo
            in the night above your head
            above your giant body
            and your being
            the one of many facets
            many hues
what marble can portray
            you have portrayed
what passion can be found in stone
            I find in your creations
The night comes
the day arrives
the river flows
the trees green
 
I want to know your strange joy
I want to swim
            in a sea of your tears
for one minute I want to live
            in the prefect mind of your Christ
I want to know how the beautiful
            sounds in your innermost ear
 
Sometimes I remember what you said:
            “I practice no art
            except to love utterly
            to trust utterly
            to feign nothing
            to hide nothing
            to pour out everything
            into my friend’s ear
            just as it comes from my heart.”
 
I remember your turmoil
            and your tortured possibilities
I’ve seen your red robes
            and your false conscience
            going up in flames
I’ve marveled at your faith
            and your discoveries
your struggles and wars overwhelm me
what you have reached for
            is gentle and monstrous
the long-buried instruments
            you perform with
            confound my own palette
I want to know why the world
            becomes you so well.

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